I sat at the dining room table as Mona tore through the package. She pried open the cardboard flaps and snatched the bubble wrap out onto the floor. Mona pulled out some sort of chocolate dipped biscuit. She took one out of the package and immediately held it closer to her cinnamon-glossed lips.

Mona slowly licked the chocolate topping with her tongue. 'Mmmm. Jaffa cakes,'� she moaned. 'They are pure heaven.'�

'They must be, they way you're molesting that one in your hand,'� I joked. 'What else did your mom send you?'� I leaned over the table and peered inside the open box.
'Just some CDs, pictures and a letter.'�

'I can't believe she sent you food all the way from London,'� I added.

Mona reached inside the tubing and handed me one of her spongy delicacies. 'You must try one!'�

I took the chocolate treat and bit into it. The jelly splashing onto my taste buds was a pleasant surprise. Mona loved to share. She was more than a study partner in my sociology class; she was an amazing, British black woman with a generosity that flowed like the locks that fell from her head. We'd meet at her apartment twice a week and delve into our study chapters over Earl Grey tea and Sonic cheeseburgers (my contribution).

'You like it, eh?'� she asked.

'Very nice,'� I mumbled in between bites. 'You gotta tell mum to send you some more of these bad boys!'�

Mona giggled at my attempt to use her British vernacular. I was her personal comedian; ready to entertain. She was my personal slice of sophisticated culture. Hanging out with her was a far cry from the harsh Chicago streets where I grew up.

Although our relationship was platonic, our sense of comfort with each other signified a brewing attraction we ignored for the most part ' until the day I watched her savor that jaffa cake.

---

A few years later, our relationship evolved into something beautiful. Our coexistence in the dating realm didn't dull the luster of our friendship. We finished undergrad and I worked downtown while Mona was a museum curator while finishing her master's degree.

One of her childhood friends, Marsha, had come to the States and gained notoriety as one half of the group, Floetry. She was gracious enough to send Mona tickets to their upcoming show. I was a huge fan and rushed to Mona's apartment in my best white linen shirt and designer jeans to pick her up.

After a few knocks, Mona came to the door wearing nothing but an old college T-shirt. I was a bit confused. 'What are you doing?'� I asked.

'The concert's not for a few hours, hon. You're early,'� she informed me

'I thought it started at 7 o'clock?'�

'Nine o'clock, love,'� she corrected me and walked barefoot across her hardwood floor. I followed her inside and closed the door. As I sauntered through her home, the smell of sandalwood danced with the vanilla candles that burned in the candelabra she had inside the fireplace. 'You want some tea?'�

'Nah, I'm good,'� I followed her closely and tugged the back of her T-shirt. 'I want some Mona.'�

Her dreadlocks kissed my face when she turned around and smiled. 'You can be so naughty, do you know that?'�

'What can I say? I'm still a hood boy from Chi-town at heart.'�

'And I'm still a naughty little girl from SE-5,'� she replied. Her lips moved closer to embrace mine. We stood in the hallway of her apartment and kissed like we were teenagers making out while our parents were at work.

Our worlds had combined to form one of mutual adoration and I prayed we wouldn't get so lost within it, that we missed the concert.

Later that night, I proposed to Mona during intermission at the concert. She said yes. We had finally set our world on a course of permanent existence.

---

'You wanted to save the best for last, eh?'� Mona wrapped her arms under mine and squeezed.

'Oh yeah. I know how mum gets down!'� I replied. My use of the British term was no longer an attempt to impress her. Mum was my mother-in-law now. We slouched inside our leather sofa, going through the last of the wedding presents.

Mona used her signature barbaric approach to gift opening. She shredded the pearly white gift wrapping and exposed the contents. Mona smiled at the tube filled with jaffa cakes and a small card. She opened the card while I opened the jaffa cakes and took a quick bite.

'To my daughter and new son-in-law,'� Mona read. 'Here are a few things to add flavor to your marriage. In the words of my wonderful new son'�'keep it hood!''� We both laughed.

'What does your mom know about keeping it hood?'� I snickered.

Mona looked perplexed. I guess jaffa cakes weren't much of a wedding gift. I didn't mind because they reminded me of the first time I looked at Mona as more than a friend. Her eyes bulged as she moved the tissue inside the box to reveal an additional gift: a leather whip, crotch-less underwear with a matching ball gag.

'I guess mum does know to keep it hood,'� she held up the S&M contents.

I smiled at my mother-in-law's freaky sentiment. 'Now I know why you're dad was grinning the whole time they were here,'� I joked.

Mona shook her head in sympathetic embarrassment for her mother. I hugged her and thought about how interesting our lives were going to be. I looked forward to making my friend the happiest woman on earth. We promised to take care of this new world we've spent years building. My life's goal was to stay as exciting as mum's sex toys; but keep it as sweet and simple as jaffa cakes.

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